


Dancing in the Dark

by jujukittychick



Series: LJ tamingthemuse prompts [14]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Community: tamingthemuse, M/M, Oblivious Jim, Pre-Slash, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1677338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujukittychick/pseuds/jujukittychick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair drags Jim to a bar for some relaxation, but things don’t go according to plan</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> My first time playing with this fandom, so my apologies in advance for any major OOCness (besides the obvious slashiness aspect which I’m not too sure wasn’t in the show anyway lol)
> 
> I do not own anything except the computer I'm typing this on and am making no money. The Sentinel belongs to its respective creators and owners who *are* making money off them. I'm just doing this for my own fun and entertainment; in general, if you recognize something, I don't own it.

_“It’s electric!”_  
  
“No! Oh, no! No, Chief, you can’t make me.” Jim was holding fast to the edge of the table, glaring at his enthusiastic partner as Blair pulled out all the stops and employed the pout and puppy dog eyes that usually could persuade Jim to give in to whatever hair-brained scheme the anthropologist came up with. But pout all he wanted, he was  _not_  getting Jim out on the dance floor. “We came here to drink, Chief, not dance. You want to dance, you go right ahead; I won’t stop you. Go have fun.”  
  
“Oh, come on, Big Guy, it’s the Electric Slide;  _everybody_  knows it.” Blair’s body was already moving with the perky music, his glance sliding away every few seconds to watch the crowd forming on the small dance floor. And indeed, it did seem like the majority of the bar’s residents were making their way there; some with more dexterity than others depending on their current alcohol content, but they were all laughing and smiling, some singing along with the catchy song.  
  
“It’s not about knowing it, Chief; I don’t dance. Just ask my ex, she’ll tell you, she could barely get me to dance at the wedding reception.“  
  
Giving one last pleading look to his Sentinel, Blaire finally gave up when faced with a very resolute frown and yet another “no.” Sighing softly, he plastered a smile on his face and made his way to one of the lines that had formed. It didn’t take long before his smile was real and he was sliding and clapping and laughing with the lady next to him as she’d miss a step and tumble against him.  
  
Jim sat in his chair, nursing his beer, his fingers absently picking at the label on the bottle as he watched his Guide dance, an unconscious frown tugging at his lips as he watched the pretty woman next to him stumble into him over and over again, only to miraculously dance better once Sandburg’s arm was around her waist as he “helped” her. He guessed he couldn’t blame her, Blaire did look good tonight, his riot of curls pulled back into a low pony tail and his retro looking jeans sitting low on his hips and showcasing his ass and thighs before belling out around his calves, even the funky vest thing he wore over a baggy shirt managed to look good on him. It wasn’t a nod to any passing fad or a particular style, it was just simply  _him_ , and people noticed that…whether Blair noticed them noticing or not.  
  
As the song wound down, he watched as the woman hit on his partner, his enhanced vision picking up the minute signs all too well and he found himself gritting his teeth, wanting to steal Sandburg away and hide him from the eyes of the world. And that very feeling had him feeling irritated for the sheer caveman-esque irrationality of it. He never even felt that way about his ex when they were at their best, so why would he be feeling it towards a scrawny, mouthy little geek with more heart than brains sometimes.  
  
Not realizing he was scowling by now, the expression grew even worse when the happy smile his Guide had been wearing on his way back to their table disappeared immediately upon seeing him. He wondered if Sandburg was coming by to tell him he’d be home sometime the next day and not to wait up, but instead the smaller man sat next to him, unnaturally quiet, for him at least, and simply stared out at the crowd.  
  
Blaire sighed quietly, hoping that the noise of the bar would cover it, as he looked out over the milling crowd. As an anthropologist, he loved people watching normally, but tonight, he just felt miserable. He’d finally managed to talk Jim into going out with him, not on a  _date_  or anything, he was afraid to even imagine how that idea would go over, but simply to get out of the house and relax for a bit. And if he’d secretly hoped that Jim would let down his guard just a little and maybe open up to him some, well…he could always hope, right?  
  
Jim endured the eerie silence from Sandburg’s direction, somehow easily noticeable over the noise of the crowd and blaring music, for another couple popular songs until a slow song came on and he caught the sound of a soft sigh and saw the wistful look the other man was giving the dance floor. “I know I’m not good company, Chief. Why don’t you go find that girl you were dancing with earlier and have some fun? She certainly seemed into you.” And if he gripped his beer bottle hard enough that his knuckles whited out for saying that, well it was dark in the club with colored lights flashing sporadically from over the dance floor and nobody with normal eyesight should notice.  
  
“Nah, man, she wasn’t really my type.” Blaire kept his gaze firmly on the dance floor this time, because that was a complete lie and he knew Jim knew it. She had been exactly his type- long legs, pretty, funny, and not looking for anything more than a one night stand. But damned if he was going to try to explain his reasoning to the big lunk next to him tonight… or ever.  
  
Jim looked at Blaire, looked out to the couples slow dancing with each other or, in some cases, simply making out while swaying to the music, and came to a decision. “Why don’t we head back home, Chief? Unless you think you might want to stay and find some company for the night or something?” He unconsciously held his breath, waiting for the answer, his gaze never leaving his Guide’s face as he catalogued all the little changes brought on by his shifting emotions, wishing he could risk turning up his scent dial to get a broader feel for the brunette’s emotions, but that was one torture he wouldn’t put himself through unless it was an emergency.  
  
“No, home’s good. I’ve got a couple books I’ve been wanting to read that I’ve been putting off, anyway.” Downing the last little bit of beer in his bottle, Blaire set it down and pushed to his feet, not even bothering to wait for Jim before heading for the door and the fresh cool air waiting outside. Maybe it would help him get his head on straight before he was forced into close quarters with Jim in his truck.  
  
Scowling once more as his Guide simply got up and left after a truly horrible excuse, Jim all but slammed his beer bottle on the table before grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and stalking out after him. The ride back to the house was a special kind of torture with the darkness lending the ride a certain intimacy and the forced closeness of the truck interior putting them well within reach of each other, and coupled with the overwhelming silence from each of them; it was like waiting for an explosion to go off. To make matters worse, as soon as Jim stretched his arm out over the back of the seat, Sandburg’s scent went all over the place - nervousness and fear and…desire? No couldn’t be - pushing his control to the edge. And then those seemingly untamable curls of his somehow managed to wrap themselves around his fingers where they rested on the seat behind his head, the silky texture taunting him, daring him to see what a handful would feel like sliding against his skin.  
  
The light over their door never looked so good, like so much of an escape.  
  
Blaire was out of the truck as soon as it stopped, unlocking the door and retreating to his bedroom. Jim stood in the open doorway and felt like banging his head against the frame; maybe it would knock something back where it was supposed to be because the whole night had just seemed to go spiraling out of control ever since he refused to dance with the smaller man. Heading up to his room, he heard the shower kick on and stripped out of everything he was wearing, the scent of smoke and alcohol and human sweat seeming to linger in every fiber and making his nose twitch.  
  
Pulling on a baggy pair of old sweat pants, he dialed down his scent, not wanting to deal with the lingering odor he could smell on his body, and unwittingly dialed up his hearing. Suddenly the sound of harsh pants and the fall of water moving in a rhythmic pattern gave him a  _very_  good idea of what his roommate was doing and he groaned to himself, debating on the wisdom of another beer since he apparently couldn’t make himself turn his attention away from the surprisingly alluring sound.  
  
Leaning against the kitchen counter, hearing Blaire’s heartbeat speeding up even further, his movements speeding, he wondered if he was thinking about the woman from the club, she had certainly been pretty enough, and despite his weak objections, she was exactly the professor’s type. Suddenly, all movement stopped and a barely audible “Jim” floated to his ears before Blaire’s breathing began to return to normal. Frozen in shock, he stared at the closed bathroom door, wondering what, if anything, he should do about the information.  
  
Thinking back over the course of the night’s events, he began to see things in a different way. He was a cop, and their partnership hadn’t exactly managed to stay out of public notice. That stupid dance he’d tried so hard to get Jim to join would be the only way they could reasonably be close to each other without drawing undo attention. He’d let down the pretty girl and returned to him. His scent had changed in the truck when they were forced close to each other.  
  
Or he was reading it all completely wrong and was losing his mind. He wasn’t quite ready to let go of that last option yet. Hearing the water shut off, and knowing how long it took Blaire to get his wet hair taken care of after a shower, Jim came to a decision and hoped like hell it was the right one.  
  


.oOo.

  
  
Blaire left the bathroom in a cloud of steam wearing a tank top and pair of loose yoga pants… and entered into a candlelit dream. All the lights in the house were off, the only light coming from candles of all sizes scattered around the living room, and soft jazz music was playing in the background.  _What the hell?_  Looking around, he watched Jim prowl towards him, and there was no other proper word to use for the way he walked; he looked very much like a jungle cat at that moment,all sleek, powerful muscle on display as the candlelight flickered over his bare chest and arms, the old sweats sitting low on his hips leaving very little to imagination. Swallowing hard as his mouth went dry and the problem he had taken care of in the shower just moments before started to return with a vengeance, he tried to speak, only to have his voice crack and have to start again. “Jim? What…what’s going on?”  
  
Jim stopped mere feet from his startled partner, a smile quirking his lips at being able to render the normally talkative man speechless before it fell away in a tangle of nerves as he wondered once more about the wisdom of this. “I uh, want to apologize for tonight…at the bar. I started thinking over things while you were…” A flush tinted his cheeks as he realized he couldn’t exactly tell him what he’d heard without embarrassing him. “While you were showering. I really hope I’m not wrong about this, it’s not like I’ve had any practice with anything like this, and if I am, feel free to write this off as a drunken hallucination and we’ll forget about it completely. But…”  
  
Blaire stepped closer, looking up into his Sentinel’s face, smiling softly as the normally stoic man succumbed to a bout of nerves, longing to reach out to him. “It’s okay, Big Guy, just say whatever it is you have to say.”  
  
“I guess…what I mean to say is…” Jim sucked in a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he came to a decision. His voice was firm as he spoke, unclouded by doubts as his gaze locked with his Guide‘s. “Would you like to dance with me, Chief?”  
  
The smile that graced Blaire’s face was everything Jim could have wanted in an answer, well that and the press of the smaller figure against his own, toned arms reaching up to drape over his shoulders as his head tucked under his chin. Wrapping his own arms loosely around Blaire’s waist, he looked down, smiling softly before nuzzling against the drying curls, inhaling the unique scent that meant “Guide” and “friend” and, he was coming to realize, “home.”  
  
Holding onto each other, the two swayed together into the wee hours of the morning, occasionally talking softly, occasionally exchanging gentle, chaste kisses until the final candle flickered out.  The CD that had been playing had stopped hours ago and now, in the complete stillness of the night, lit only by fading moonlight, Blaire looked up at Jim and took his hand, taking a step backwards towards his bedroom, waiting undemandingly as he asked, "Dance with me, Jim?"  
  
Jim hesitated only a moment before stepping forward, following the smaller man into the bedroom and closing the door behind them.  Pulling him back into his arms, he claimed his mouth for soft, lingering kiss.  "I'd love to."


End file.
